Long time, no blog. I do apologize, but you see, my boyfriend wanted to marry me. Me! An awkward tomboy queer girl with a history of mental illness, baby belly fat, debilitating food allergies, and a little extra emotional baggage found love! It’s because of this love that I found myself getting attacked and picking up hitchhikers at the Ozarks.
We chose the Ozarks for our honeymoon because of the beautiful scenery, romantic secludedness, and the promise of peaceful nature hikes. Neither of us fish, he doesn’t swim (and I’m a take-it-or-leave-it kind of swimmer), we don’t have a boat, but there’s something about being in nature that makes me feel a little rejuvenated. I know my new sweet hubby is not really into nature, but in his own words: “I want to be where you are.” That’s what he said! Wow!
Before we left I warned him of a few things:
“Bring a pair of jeans so you don’t get ticks,” I said.
“Bring some socks and some tie shoes so you don’t get ticks.”
“I’m packing this long sleeve shirt so I don’t get ticks.”
“Don’t worry about spiders, sweetie, we won’t be going deep enough into the woods to bother the poisonous ones.”
I want all who read this to understand my tick paranoia. You see, I was sick for a very long time, and while it was not Lyme disease, I had all of the symptoms of Lyme disease. This is given me a hyper-paranoia about ticks, even in my own back yard. I think you can see where I’m going with this.
Ticks and spiders and wasps, oh my!
On Tuesday afternoon, New Hubby and I entered the woods at Ozark State Park in Osage Beach. We held hands, we shared kisses, we took pictures and talked about how peaceful it was away from all the traffic and bustle. As city folk, we were incredibly appreciative of the silence. Then we were silent. We tried to follow the widest path we could so as not to bother the ticks, spiders, and other wildlife. I have this thing for spiders: I like them. I do everything I can not to bother their webs so that they can catch those bugs that bite you and help stabilize our ecosystem. We came to a path that was completely blocked by a spider web, and rather than destroy like your assumed hiker would, we just turned around and took another path. Spider’s gotta eat.
Halfway down that path a shiny black bug began to buzz. It circled around us a few times, and I realized it was a wasp. It was a nasty, black, noisy, mean wasp. And it was following us. It flew in between us and sort of dive-bombed us, at which point we turned and ran out of the woods. We were completely under attack! Where was that spider at when we needed him?
Once the wasp had suffeciently evicted us from his woods, we headed home for baths and tick checks. No ticks on hubby. No ticks on me, at least where I could visibly see. But there was something: a red, itchy bump on the back of my leg. That fucking spider bit me. Okay, maybe not THAT spider, but A spider. What did I ever do to them? Seriously? But I shrugged it off and climbed into the jetted tub provided by our bed and breakfast place.
As I scrubbed my ankles I noticed a freckle-like mark on my leg. “Funny,” I thought. “I don’t remember that freckle.” Because it wasn’t a freckle. It was a tick. I checked further on up my leg. Another freckle-tick. Mother fucker. I picked up two little hitchhikers. I plucked the ticks off and threw them in the toilet, flushing them to their demise. I’ll be damned if I get Lyme disease, you know!
After I was sure I was tick and disease free, I laid my head back in the jetted tub and enjoyed the hot water. Really, it was a beautiful honeymoon. We had the time of our lives, and I still think about it today! But no one wants to read mushy lovey shit about a beautiful honeymoon, do they? There are some stories you just don’t tell!
